


The Art of Getting Away with Speeding Using Your Womanly Wiles

by justalittlehungry



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale as Asmodeus, Crowley's Bad Driving (Good Omens), Demon Aziraphale (Good Omens), Excessive use of miracles and blesings, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Other, Reverse Omens, Role Reversal, Soft Pining, flowery language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 22:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20514257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlehungry/pseuds/justalittlehungry
Summary: "Yes, officer?" replied the being in a rich, smooth voice that conjured images of honey, velvet, and sex. "Is there a problem?""You - " the cop coughed, cleared his throat, "You were going 80 in a 50 zone, ma'am.""Oh! Dearest me, officer."Crowley decides to get out of a speeding ticket the best way he knows how - manipulation, miracles, and excessive femininity.





	The Art of Getting Away with Speeding Using Your Womanly Wiles

"Oh, buggering fuck."

Flashing blue lights appeared in the rear view mirror. Crowley sighed, while Asmodeus, who sitting primly next to him, rolled his eyes and began to chide him on not paying better attention, and now they're going to be late, and - "Yeah, yeah, shut up." He pulled onto the shoulder, parked, rolled down the window, and waited, staring intensely into the round side mirror. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A man, maybe early thirties, got out of the police car.

"Excuse me, miss" the Officer Jonathan Browning started, giving a hesitant smile to the creature in the Bentley. He wasn't sure if she looked like an angel or like a temptress, but whichever way some higher power clearly took time sculpting her. Shining amber eyes slowly blinked up at him as plump, glossy lips lifted into a smile of their own.

"Yes, officer?" replied the being in a rich, smooth voice that conjured images of honey, velvet, and sex. "Is there a problem?"

"You - " the cop coughed, cleared his throat, "You were going 80 in a 50 zone, ma'am."

"Oh! Dearest me, officer." There was pain in her voice at that exclamation, the faint hint of a tortured whimper and soul-deep sadness. She brought a delicate, long-fingered hand to that sumptuous mouth as it pulled into a perfect round, the motion knocking a cascade of auburn waves over a smooth shoulder. "Are you quite sure? I try my best to watch the speed - one wouldn't want to go too fast, could hurt someone that way - and I never saw the needle above the 50 tick."

Officer Browning melted at the sheer earnestness, and, who knows? Maybe the radar machine was wrong - it does happen, even if it had been inspected just last week. And clearly this vision wouldn't do anything as vulgar as speed, the purity radiating off of her was so crisp and obvious that all his uncertainties and doubts drained away. Yes, obviously a machine malfunction. A feeling of beatific grace swept through him at that conclusion. He coughed again. "Yes, yes, of course, madam. I'm certain you did - probably just an error in our radar gun. These things happen all the time, you know. I do apologize for any inconvenience."

Those glittering gold eyes brightened and petal pink cheeks lifted as she smiled sweetly. "Of course, officer, it's no inconvenience at all. Am I free to go, sir?"

"Yes, yes, definitely, please," he breathed out, head swimming at the overwhelming beauty and the sweet, sorrowful emotions she was pulling out of him.

"Thank you, officer," she replied in a demure murmur, looking at him from under long dark lashes as she started to crank the window back up.

Officer Browning did not respond with a "You're welcome". Nor did he respond with 'of course', 'it's no problem at all', or the response that had been threatening to overtake him the entire confrontation, 'please, my lady, I want you and must have you. A curse from you is worth the blessing of a thousand angels, and I would die happily for a single touch of your flesh on mine. I need you, please take me'. It's a rather good thing that Jonathan Browning managed to resist saying that last one, or else Asmodeus might have gotten involved and the situation would have become a lot messier.

As it was, Officer Browning's only response was to release a high-pitched whine in the back of his throat and stumble almost drunkenly to his cruiser. By time he got there, the Bentley was gone around the bend, and he found himself spending the next fifteen minutes trying to calm his racing heart.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the Bentley, Asmodeus was hysterical. "Oh my - he he he - I can't - he ha! - and then - you!"

"Laugh it up, arsehole," Crowley grumbled.

"Oh, bless," Asmodeus chuckled out, wiping a few tears from his multifaceted eyes. "This is exactly why I like you, my sweet. That was a wonderful performance, if a little heavy-handed on the blessing and miracle department. I think you nearly gave the man a heart attack."

Crowley glared at him, then sighed, then let out a chuckle of his own. "I might have gotten carried away." He absently rested his free hand on Asmodeus's knee and began to gently stroke it with his thumb.

Asmodeus, for his part, tried his hardest to be still without being too still so as to not alert Crowley to his wandering appendage. Warmth and light soothed through him, making his eyelids droop and causing his antennae to flatten out a little amongst his curls. "Yes, well, all's well that end's well."

Crowley, for once paying attention to the road, did not see the look of unfettered, undisguised affection Asmodeus was sending him - though even if he had, he would have come up with some alternate explanation for it. He smiled, a small private little thing of yearning and love and just a speck of pride and lust for the demon next to him. "Quite right. And if we do this correctly, that well ending won't be happening anytime soon." Crowley startled as Asmodeus placed a hand on his should before relaxing into the touch. He glanced over at him and grinned.

The answering grin had too many teeth to seem even close to human. "You and me against heaven and hell, sweetness. It's meant to fail, which is exactly why it won't. And, ehm, Crowley?"

"Yeah, ahsh?"

"Love the look."

**Author's Note:**

> According to my very quick research, "ahsh" is Hebrew for moth, rooted in the word for "to fall away". Since 'angel' doesn't really apply to Asmodeus, and 'devil', 'demon', and whatnot don't have that pet name kind of feeling, I figured ahsh worked as well as anything.


End file.
